The train's overhead lights flickered—once, twice—and then cut out completely. In that moment, silence seized the cabin. What had been the steady hum of electric movement and casual chatter became a breathless void. Darkness pressed against every surface like a second skin. Someone to Zay's left muttered a nervous curse. A child whimpered. The metallic rattle beneath their feet continued, steady but suddenly menacing without the comforting glow of light.
Then—click.
The lights snapped back on with a low electrical buzz. Pale fluorescence washed over the rows of cushioned seats and lined floor. Everything looked the same, but something in the air had changed.
The attendant, seated near the front of the carriage, stood up slowly and raised his hands in a calming gesture. His smile was forced, the edges trembling as though barely held together.
"Everything is fine," he said, voice thin, artificially bright. "Just a small mechanical issue with the lighting. These trains are—"
It happened so fast the mind could barely process it.
From the right side of the train, a blinding flash of silver streaked across Zay's vision. A deafening shriek of rending metal filled the cabin. Something—a massive blade—burst through the side of the train like a guillotine, slicing through the wall with extreme force. The entire panel was peeled back, sheared away with horrifying ease.
For a heartbeat, everyone stared.
Then came the wind.
A violent gust howled into the cabin, roaring like a beast. The decompression slammed passengers backward. Screams erupted as people were yanked from their seats, flung into hard steel railings and shatterproof glass. The sound of impact was sickening—wet, heavy. Skulls split. Spines snapped. Blood painted the walls in ragged arcs.
Bodies crumpled. Some were twisted at unnatural angles, necks bent like broken branches. Others simply dropped where they stood, their last expressions frozen in disbelief and terror.
The air was filled with the stench of torn flesh and scorched metal.
Then came the figures.
Through the jagged wound in the train's wall, they entered—six of them. Each wore a cloak the color of deep ocean at midnight, fastened with silver clasps at the collar. Their faces were hidden behind featureless masks. Not a single footstep made a sound as they landed inside the train. They moved as one—graceful, controlled, and inhumanly precise.
Zay jumped from his seat and activated [Shadow Hide]. The large man beside him let out a low sigh before rising to his feet. His clothes tore at the seams as he moved, unable to contain the sheer size of his muscles.
"Kill them all," ordered the one at the front—the leader of the group.
The five others obeyed without hesitation. They began channeling aura into blades, each weapon forming from pure energy in a burst of color—pink, orange, violet, crimson, and green. The blades extended from their hands like liquid light solidifying mid-air.
One of them raised their right hand—the empty one—and from their sleeve dropped a golden medallion, tied to their wrist by a thin black cord.
"Spirits obey. Dreams become reality… and fill this train with fog," the figure intoned.
The golden medallion flared with a brilliant crimson light—and in the next instant, thick fog flooded the train, swallowing every detail in a choking, ethereal mist.
The five attackers surged forward in unison, their footsteps silent but the aftermath anything but. The sound of flesh being torn open filled the air—a wet, grotesque series of rips and snaps. Screams erupted, sharp and terrified, echoing off the steel walls… before fading abruptly into choking silence.
Blood spilled freely across the floor, soaking into the seats and pooling around the bodies of the fallen civilians. The corridor became a slaughterhouse.
Two of the assailants broke away from the group, lunging toward the reinforced door that led to the next compartment. Their blades struck relentlessly, slicing through metal like paper. Sparks showered the walls as the door groaned, then collapsed inward with a crash.
Without pausing, they stepped through the threshold—and within seconds, the next corridor was filled with the sound of shrieks, then silence once more. Another massacre happened.
Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the fog began to vanish.
It peeled away in strands, drawn back by the rushing wind, revealing the corridor once more. Bodies lay strewn across the floor like discarded dolls, their eyes glassy and lifeless, limbs twisted in unnatural angles. The thick, coppery scent of blood clung to the air.
The six attackers now stood together again, perfectly aligned in formation—unharmed, untouched, their masks still expressionless. Not a speck of blood stained their cloaks, as if the massacre had never touched them at all.
Wind tore through the open breach in the train, roaring like a beast. It funneled down the corridor, deafening and relentless. Strips of torn seat fabric flapped violently. Loose papers spiraled through the air like falling leaves in a storm.
Only a handful had survived.
The attendant was huddled near a shattered window, trembling. The train driver peeked out from the engine cabin, his face pale with shock. And then there was the large man—still standing, still breathing—his body bloodied but unbowed.
None of them had noticed Zay. His activation of [Shadow Hide] had been too swift. To them, he didn't exist.
The large man exhaled deeply, then tore off his trench coat in a single fluid motion. The fabric ripped apart with a sharp snap, fluttering into the chaotic wind before vanishing into the void beyond the missing wall. Underneath, his body was a landscape of jagged scars—old battles carved into flesh. Blood streaked down his chest where they had tried to kill him.
But they hadn't succeeded.
He let his journal fall to the floor. It hit with a muted thud—the pages ruffling in the wind—before he threw his head back and released a raw, guttural roar. His muscles spasmed violently. His back arched.
Zay, crouched low in the far corner, hidden within the remains of a shadow-blackened alcove, narrowed his eyes.
'Is that… mutation?' he thought, tension rising in his chest.
White hair began to sprout from the man's skin, threading across his body like wildfire. Claws burst from his fingernails with a sickening crunch, and his boots split open as his feet expanded, bones reshaping. A savage growl rumbled from his throat as his form contorted, his breath coming out in rapid bursts.
Then he dropped to all fours, shoulders hunching forward. Golden light shimmered to life around him, and a dozen small blades made of pure aura materialized—circling him like loyal predators awaiting a command.
Zay's eyes widened in recognition, the details snapping into place.
"The Wolf Contract," he whispered beneath the storm of wind, his voice lost to the howling void.
'A contract with Wyla', he thought, gaze drifting toward the journal that still lay on the floor. 'The being of wolves and territory. It's a powerful one… enhanced senses, smell, vision, strength—and size. Territorial mastery, too. No wonder they couldn't kill him.'
The journal caught a draft of wind and was whipped into the open air, flying out through the broken side of the train—gone.
The golden aura blades launched outward in streaks of light, each one aimed with deadly precision toward the six figures.
They reacted swiftly, their own aura-forged weapons clashing against the incoming blades in a flurry of sparks. Steel rang out. The golden blades met resistance as they shattered.
The beast roared and lunged.
With terrifying force, it slammed one massive paw forward, claws extended in a sweeping arc. The air cracked with the sound of raw power. One of the six attackers stood in its path, and the claws struck cleanly.
But instead of flesh being torn, fog exploded outward from the figure's body in a swirling bloom, as though their form had been made of mist itself. The impact passed harmlessly through. The figure dissolved—and in the blink of an eye, they reappeared behind the others in a wisp of vapor.
Zay narrowed his eyes from his shadowed perch.
A necklace now hung around the figure's neck, half-hidden beneath their robes. Seven crystalline jewels were set in a circular frame—and one had just shattered, jagged fragments falling silently to the bloodstained floor.
Golden aura surged around the beast again, the floating blades slashing out in all directions. He moved with unnatural speed for something his size—twisting, leaping, swiping. The air shuddered with each impact as the train rocked violently from the force of his strikes.
The six attackers split apart and began circling as best as they could in such an enclosed area.
Then the leader raised his hand.
His movement was subtle, controlled—but instantly everything changed.
A blue, star-shaped medallion fell from his sleeve, glowing faintly in the storm-tossed light. It spun once in the air, then pulsed as he began to chant in a language lost to most:
"Shaal viretto drem'nakai… ulthé varan sul drathk!"
The medallion flared to life, glowing with an ethereal blue flame.
Suddenly, spectral chains erupted from the floor beneath the beast, spiraling upward in streaks of light. They coiled around his limbs, his torso, his neck—glowing with runes that etched themselves into his fur as they tightened. He roared and thrashed, golden blades shattering against the walls in his frenzy.
He dropped to one knee.
Then all six moved.
Like a pack of wolves, they struck simultaneously—blades piercing into flesh with strength honed from countless hours of training. One through the back. Another into the thigh. Two more sank deep into his sides. Blood erupted with each strike, staining the floor black-red as the chains pulled tighter, anchoring him to the floor with brutal finality.
The beast howled, muscles trembling as he strained against the restraints. His claws raked the floor, scoring deep grooves into steel, but it was no use.
The blue chains didn't even flicker.
More stabs followed—merciless, methodical. The golden aura around him flickered, then dimmed. His breath came in ragged bursts. His eyes, once wild and defiant, began to glaze over.
Zay remained in the darkness, motionless.
'That was no ordinary sealing technique... I've never heard of that incantation before.'
The beast collapsed to the ground, twitching once more before finally going still—his blood pooling beneath him in silence.
And then the leader spoke.
"Clean it up."